


Born to Rule

by Antinous (Centesimus)



Category: Alexander (2004), Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault, Historical RPF
Genre: Ancient History, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Centesimus/pseuds/Antinous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From their meeting in Mezia to their parting breaths- my interpretation of Alexander and Hephaestion's relationship told in chronological order. I'm trying to do something a little different. Slow build. Warnings elaborated on before each chapter.</p><p>Due to malfunctions, this story will be continued in the summer. Thanks for the patience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Prelude_

_Philip II of Macedon, as a young man had been appointed as regent to the throne, but soon after he managed to gain the support of the Macedonian generals who held his council, and become king. He was of royal blood, as he was the son of the king, but unlike the kings and queens of modern day, birth was no sure sign of ascension to the throne._

_Macedon was unique in its placement. It resembled neither the city-states to the south, nor the disjointed tribes from the north. Rather, they resembled the typical monarchies which ruled before democracy emerged. It was more similar to the Persian Empire than any other regional ally or enemy. Wherein a polis such as Athens or Sparta contained only a city and the close lands around which provided grain and goods for the city to rely on, Macedon by the time Philip’s reign reached its peak, extended over a vast space._

_Philip had learned the military, diplomatic, and strategic ropes of war while he was held as a sort of political prisoner within Thebes. So when he was returned to Macedon, his cunning strategy did not fail to elevate him to glory. His exploits brought him through the Greek mainland where his powerful reach extended to the independent city states. Using both his military and his diplomatic skill, he made allies of his enemies, and reminded his allies of the risks which betrayal posed._

_Before his acquisitions in Greece began, however, Philip’s efforts were focused north of his Macedonian kingdom. The northern tribes of Thracians, Gauls, Illirians, and Celts were among a few of the many who frequently caused trouble for the young King. Soon enough, however, Philip began to use the techniques of his forefathers, to acquire strength in military alliance. His fourth wife, Olympias, was the mother of his second son, and eventual successor, Alexander._

_Olympias was a princess from Epirus. Her affection towards snakes and extreme devotion to worship of the gods caused many in the Macedonian court to think of her as a sorceress. Likely this came not only for her strange behavior, but for her stunning beauty, and her irresistibility. She was cunning, and her words were like venom to the ears of any who shared her council._

_It was said that at the moment of their meeting Philip fell in love with her, and soon after they were married- she was only thirteen at the time. The two were a match made in Hades. Truly the cruelty in their union was inflicted due more to their similarities than their differences. Both were dangerously ambitious and power-hungry. Philip thirsted for the blood of the Persians, and Olympias murdered and cheated anyone who she saw as her enemy. Though she was one among many wives of Philip, she established herself as a Queen of authority and seniority among newcomers, partially because of her quickness in providing Philip with a son._

_It is then no surprise that from the fruit of their passion bore a man such as Alexander._

_His childhood was spent in the extravagant palaces of his father in Macedonia. He was awarded the luxuries of a price, but had to live with the discipline of a solider, and earn the authority of a prodigious general._

_Alexander first met Hephaestion when they were children in Pella, early in their lives. When they were both still very young, Hephaestion’s father was employed as one of the highest ranking generals in King Philip’s army. His family resided in Pella, and due to his father’s position, and his similarity in age, Hephaestion was from a young age, well acquainted with Alexander._

_The two boys were remarkably close; they shared the same affinity for knowledge, and passion for literature, even at such a young age. Due to their closeness both in proximity and friendship, the boys were almost inseparable, until an injury sustained while leading a charge against a northern tribe left Hephaestion’s father crippled in one leg. Due to his years of service and loyalty, however, he was rewarded a general pension to sustain himself and his family through retirement. With such a generous offer, his father accepted, and chose to join his kin in Athens, with his family._

_They were both ten years old at the time, having spent the better part of their lives together._

_“I don’t understand, why must we leave Pella?” Hephaestion had asked, with tears threatening to betray how grim he felt._

_“Hephaestion, we have spoken of this at great lengths, and I tire of repeating myself. The King no longer requires my services, and it is time to return to Athens.”_

_“But father, I have no desire to go to Athens.”_

_“You are young, and will soon learn that life is rarely about fulfilling your desires. We do what we must, and move on when we are no longer needed.” His father explained._

_“Pack the belongings you will need for the trip, I will have Xanthias pack our remaining items and accompany the caravan to the city in the coming days. We leave at sunrise.”_

_A sinking feeling consumed him as he realized he was running out of time. “…But Alexander,”_

_“Alexander will be just fine. You will see your friend soon enough,” his father interrupted. “It will not be many Olympiads before we return to this place. If only briefly,”_

_“Olympiads?” he shouted, suddenly realizing his anger towards his father. “Father, I cannot leave him for that long!”_

_“Well you best say your farewells while you can then.” His father stated in an ominously calm voice, and Hephaestion simply stared for a few moments before he realized what he had to do. Dashing to his room he began throwing things from his already packed chest, and pushing scrolls from his desk, franticly searching for the one in particular he needed. Finally finding it, still in perfect condition he climbed pushed past his father and from their modest home._

_He did not live far from the palace, but Pella had many winding roads and hills, and by the time he reached the palace, he was out of breath. The sun had long since set, and he knew he was running out of time. As he approached the gates one of the guards nodded at him, recognizing the boy._

_“Master Hephaestion, how may we be of service?”_

_“I need to see prince Alexander,” he panted, out of breath._

_“The hour is late, so I will take you.” The guard led Hephaestion through several passages before arriving at the room which he recognized as Alexander’s, and motioned for him to stop._

_“Wait here.” He said, and approached the guard who stood before the doors. He whispered something which Hephaestion couldn’t hear, and the second guard looked over the first’s shoulder, nodded, and whispered something in return. Both went silent for a moment before the second guard turned and opened the door, signaling for Hephaestion to enter the lavish chamber. He entered the room slowly, suddenly unsure of himself, but when Alexander heard footsteps he stood from the desk at which he was practicing his Greek script and turned, praying that it was not his mother, returning to chide him for something or other._

_Alexander visibly deflated when he noticed it was his friend. “Hephaestion, what brings you here at such a late hour?”, noticing the frantic expression he held, and how clearly out of breath he was, Alexander rushed to him._

_Hephaestion did as well, and they met halfway. “Zander, my father and I leave for Athens in the morning. He does not intend for us to return!”_

_“How can this be? So suddenly?”_

_“Not as much as I would hope. He has spoken of it on occasion in the past couple of weeks, but I did not realize he was serious.”_

_“Not serious?” Alexander shouted, he felt his heart drop. “Phae, why did you not tell me sooner? I don’t understand.”_

_“I did not mean to cause you pain, but my father this night has made it quite clear that I shall not see you for some time, and I knew I couldn’t leave you without wishing you health,” Hephaestion reached out with his free hand towards Alexander, but he pulled away._

_“You can’t leave me, Phae! I command you to stay.” Alexander fought. His eyes were now too full of tears, and his anger began to dissipate._

_“Zander, this is not something you can control!” Hephaestion yelled back, and the room descended into silence. “I brought you this,” he calmly started, reaching out once more to his friend. “If it is true, and I am not to see you until we are as old and withered as our fathers, I would ask that you remember me.” He held out the scroll, and Alexander slowly took it from his hands. His confusion was replaced by recognition as he slowly opened it and began to read._

_“Phae, I cannot take this.” Alexander tried to push it back at his friend. “I need nothing to remember you by, my friend. Without you I am nothing!”_

_Hephaestion smiled through his tears, and took the scroll. He placed it on Alexander’s bed gently, and returned to his friend. “You over estimate my importance, my prince.”_

_Alexander pushed him lightly “You know not to call me that, Phae, and if I am to take yours, then you must take mine.”Alexander moved to his desk to retrieve his copy of the Illiad, and gave the richly copied scrolls to his friend, who accepted them and gripped it tghtly.  As  Alexander now also fought to smile through the tears flowing freely down his face, he rushed at the taller boy and grasped him in a tight embrace, and they remained that way for some time. “Stay with me, Phae. Just for tonight.”_

_“I cannot, Zander.” He replied grimly. “My father will be waiting for me.”_

_“I will send a guard to your father, he will tell him where you are.” He replied eagerly. “He can collect you in the morning, and you must promise not to fuss.” Hephaestion nodded slowly, though he looked down at Alexander stubbornly._

_“Do not give me that look, you are the one who insists on hiding when your father comes to collect you. I know this game you love to play. It is the only way we can spend tonight together.”_

_With that, Alexander sent his guard. Amyntor was fully aware when his son left that he would not return for the night, and so he agreed to the arrangement. Alexander held his friend tightly, fighting his tired eyes to stay open as long as they could so he would not miss the last moments they spent together. He wanted to memorize his face, and the way his hair fell to his shoulders. How sometimes in his sleep he would mumble nonsense, and his eyes would move actively behind their shades. But soon sleep conquered him as well, and their time was over._

_The next morning, while Alexander slept, Hephaestion’s father silently carried his son from the palace, sure to bring the scrolls his son shad slept next to, and he did not wake until well into the journey._

_Keeping to his word, Hephaestion remained silent for several days after, as he could think of nothing but the misery of living without his only friend, in a city where his father was spoken of only in unkind sentences._

_The next time the two boys met would not be for four years, in Mezia._

_The famed philosopher Aristotle was a regular at the court of Philip. He had studied for many years at the Academy of Plato in Athens as a young man, and excelled in his work. It was,  perhaps, a trick of fate that his future employer in Philip had his home town sacked in his continued conquests. After the passing of time. However, the two were forced to be reconciled. As a Macedonian by birth, and one of the most celebrated thinkers of his time, Philip requested Aristotle return to Macedon._

_With the promise made to him to restore his home, and free his kin from slavery, Aristotle agreed._

_And that is where our story begins._

_________________________________________

Alexander rested his head on the hard wood table top in front of him. The tip to Mezia had been long, and his guard had taken it with limited rest. At age thirteen he had rarely traveled as far, but was still grateful to be free of the smothering air of the palace in Pella. The open air was invigorating, and he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with emotion to see the great expanses of blue sky and green pastures before him.

Chances to travel had been limited before now, as he was not old enough to be trained in the ways of weaponry or horseback riding. His current education was limited mostly to what his nurses could provide to him, and the advisors to his father. Truth be told it was quite lonely. With Macedonia's great expanses, most of his most frequent generals resided in the country, rather than in the city, and they only rarely brought their families to the royal palace, save special occasions.

He had little experience with other children, and as a result had many friends of older years older than himself, which greatly troubled his father. His son's youth made him susceptible to persuasion but the older boys and pages of the Macedonian court, and he feared that their manipulation would cause Alexander to turn against him.

*Though he did not openly seek affection from his young son, Philip cared deeply of his son. He was a strong and fair boy, and he saw much of himself in the young man. He hoped that he would grow to be a good general one day, though thoughts of his son's claiming of the throne rarely breached his mind. The invasions of the north, missions to the south, and eventual conquering of the east all in his mind, Philip was less than occupied with the activities of his son.

"He cannot stay here, my lord." A member of his guard had urged in a briefing early one July morning. Alexander's birthday was approaching quickly and he would soon be thirteen. Few were blinded to the influences which already presented themselves to him. An ambitious mother, and even more ambitious friends. "He is not old enough to be a page, but  pushed by the toxins which threaten him here, I fear for young Alexander."

"He is right, Philip." Another chimed in, Antipater, one of his most trusted generals. "Perhaps it is time we looked to the future. Many of us have sons, noble men who will one day join your guard. It would be beneficial to offer them all Macedonia has, to aid in their development."

"What do you propose?" Philip nodded. He was not ignorant to the happenings of the palace, and understood what his generals proposed.

"He means you should send them away," interjected Parmenio, another senior official. "Master Aristotle is under your charge, is he not?"

"He is," Philip replied. "But he will not accept to a job instructing children! He will make demands, you must know that."

"Demands, I'm sure, but that cannot deter us." Parmenio replied.

"The risk Alexander poses is too high for him to remain in Pella! Send him to Athens if Master Aristotle so demands it!" Another interjected and sounds of agreement echoed in the chamber.

"No." Stated Philip firmly. "An academy already exists to a degree in the south. If necessary we will send them there. But Antipater, you state correctly. It is not only my own son who poses risk, many of your sons would benefit from such instruction. Have it arranged that in the coming months they are prepared for it."

With that the conversation on the matter had ended. It did take many demands to have Aristotle to teach the boys, but at his elderly age, he was not at all inclined to travel far or practice the same bodily pleasures he previously enjoyed. His hometown of Stageira was re-built, and the citizens who formerly occupied it were bought from slavery. He was allowed to choose the location of his instruction, and so he chose Mezia. A small place, with all the beauty and splendors which nature could provide. It existed in absolute harmony with the rest of the world.

Alexander had been excited beyond belief when he heard the news. His mother, on the other hand, had been furious. She wailed and shrieked curses on her husband for taking her son away. For some reason, though, Alexander was unmoved. He would miss his mother, of course, and yet… He did not feel attached to his home. Even after having left, he did not feel sick for his home or way of life. He briefly wondered if there was something wrong with him. He ached to put distance between himself and the palace, to ride in the open and seek new thrills. He felt no need to be home. To settle in one place, or always be yearning for the comforts of his own possessions, which perhaps explains why he brought so little with him.

His father dedicated a generous patronage to the academy, so he brought only what he needed. Chitons, his series of scrolls containing the Illiad, and a small collection of traditional dress jewels for formal occasions.

He looked around the empty room he had been assigned. A bed rested on the far end, a table against the other, and a wide window faced the valley below. He could hear the echo of movement beyond the small enclosed space, as the companions of his father, and their children began to arrive. He had been told that the other students would be boys who he had already met, some more frequently than others. Their possessions as sons of generals and nobles alike would in the future mean they would be pages in his father's house, and eventually, should he be so fortunate, work under him.

Some, such as Cassander, and Ptolomy who had always been frequent in the court at Pella, as their fathers resided in the city, as advisors directly to the King. Others, such as Harpalus, Hephaision, and Nearchus, all were only present on rare occasions, as their families  were stationed outside of Macedon in the north, Athens, and Crete respectively.

“There you are, Alexander!”  voice startled him from his thoughts and Alexander jumped. He tuned just to be embraced by Ptolemy. “When did you arrive? I’ve been searching high heavens for you, boy,” He released him, and alexander swatted at him.

“Don’t call me boy, old man.” He reliped, feigning anger. “You are not that much older than I am”.

“Nine years is not much for you?” He exclaimed. “I feel my bones already weaken. It’s a miracle by Apollo himself that your father allowed me to join you here.”

“I would not have it any other way,” Alexander laughed.

“Speak of our great king, where is your father?”

“He did not accompany me,” Alexander started. “He comes with a company of generals in the day to come. He wishes for there to be a feast before we begin our studies.

“I wonder if this quiet place is ready for that.” Ptolemy laughed, leaning against one of the stone walls by the window. “I don’t think any walls this far south have been blessed with the quantities wine which your father will see flowing on that night”

“Have the others arrived yet?”

“Only Nearchus and Perdiccas. I suspect that we will be joined by Hephaistion, Seleucus and Aristonous before the night is through. But I do believe that Cassander and the sons of Parmenio will arrive in the company of your father.”

Alexander stilled. “Hephaestion?”

“Mhm,” Ptolemy nodded, fiddling with a piece of plaster on the stone wall.

“Do not be sly with me, Ptolemy.” Alexander warned. “Will be here to study alongside us?”

Ptolemy looked up at Alexander when he recognized the hush tone. “By the gods, Alexander!” he laughed. “Of course he will be here to stay, did nobody tell you?”

Alexander’s face visibly reddened and he turned from his friend. “It matters not, he probably won’t remember me regardless.”

“Are you really that daft?” asked Ptolemy as he rushed to his friend, and punched his shoulder lightly. “Of course he will remember you!”. Ptolemy had been present through the years when Hephaestion and Alexander had been friends, and was close to both of them.

“So he has come from Athens, then?” Alexander asked quietly.

“I imagine so,” Ptolemy replied. “Though… I would not say that it is his favour that you will have to work to earn. The others hardly have had the privilege of sharing your bed.” Ptolemy winked.

“Ptolemy!” Alexander yelled, suddenly both embarrassed and horrified. “It was never like that! We were children!” Ptolemy laughed hysterically, and feigned injury.  

“Besides, you are right. I hardly remember the rest. Aside obviously from Cassander and Philotas,” Alexander shook his head. “You must help me greet the others when they arrive.”

“Alexander, I hardly think that’s required of you. But I will help- though I am not sure there will be much to tell them apart from the last time I saw most of them- they were just children. The only truly distinguishing factor is their fathers.”

“It is good that most of them were accompanied here then.” Alexander agreed. “Will you show me the rest of the academy?”

“Have you unpacked?” Ptolemy asked, looking around the empty room.

“I have.”

Ptolemy paused. “By Zeus! You’ve brought less than nothing with you!”

“I have no need for extremities.” He replied, with his eyebrows raised. “Now, will you do me the generous favour of granting me the pleasure of your company outside of these walls?”

Ptolemy laughed, “as you will, little prince.”

The two of them left Alexander’s somewhat empty compartment and entered the narrow hall which contained the rooms of the other students, as well as their instructors Leonidas and Lysimachus, who would both be leaving their charges in Macedon to teach the young men.

Alexander had met them both on numerous occasions. Leonidas had taught Alexander of music, literature, language, and history in his youth, and in turn they had become excessively fond of one another. It brought him great comfort to know he would have someone so trusted close to him at all times. He was quite old, and had served under Alexander II, his uncle in Epirus, in the military as a secretary, and as a result was well spoken and traveled. Alexander had always thought he had kind eyes. His mother had demanded the man accompany him to Mezia, and Philip begrudgingly agreed.

Lysimachus, on the other hand, was much younger than his other instructors, and served his father as one of his best generals. He had scars on every part of his body, and his hands were calloused from fighting with a sword. He had always been fond of Alexander, teaching him to fight with a sword on warm days, and how to wrestle expertly. He had been at the assembly on the day when Philip had agreed to send the boys off, and had volunteered to oversee the physical aspects of their training. Once again, Philip begrudgingly agreed to lose one of his best generals.

They continued down the hallway until a large bang was heard from a room three doors down. Looking at one another they ran towards the noise.

“Please!” a voice shouted. “Just leave it, you’re useless!”

They approached the door as two men hurried out, leaving a small boy in the room.

“Nearchus. Of course,” Ptolemy laughed, and himself and Alexander entered the room. The boy looked at them quizzically, examining their robes. Alexander did recognize the boy. But Ptolemy knew, if the crashing he had heard was any indication, that the small boy had changed little in the past few years.

“Health to you, Prince Alexander,” He bowed.

“No need for formalities,” Alexander extended his arm, and grasped Nearchus. “I remember you.” He smiled. “And Ptolemy- I assume you have met?”

“How can I forget the torture which he insisted on inflicting on me on my father’s visits to Pella.” Ptolemy ruffled the smaller boy’s hair. He had dark features and his skin was tanned from too much time in the sun, and was of similar height to Alexander, but clearly also at least a year or two younger.

“What caused such a racket, friend?”

“Ah, It was my fault.” He shook his head. “My father’s men sought to carry my chest in, and I directed them badly, and they dropped it short of the table. Normally I have no temper, but it’s been several days at sea and I treated them poorly.”

“Perhaps you would like to join us, Nearchus.” Ptolemy extended, “I was about to show Alexander the rest of the academy.”

“If it would not be too much of an inconvenience I would very much enjoy that.”

The three boys left the room and followed the stoa into the portico of the building. “You mentioned you were at sea, Nearchus. From where do you hail?”

“My father is Macedonian but I am from Crete. We spend much time at sea, as he is the leader of your father’s Navy. He teaches me everything he knows, and I hope one day to be as skilled a navigator as he is,” Nearchus spoke fondly.

“I know almost nothing of the sea, you will have to teach me your secrets,” Alexander replied eagerly, and Nearchus lit up.

“It would be my pleasure, my prince!”

“Call me Alexander, I insist.”

 “Very well, Alexander.”

As they exited the hallway, they merged into a courtyard. Slaves and soldiers alike bustled past each other carrying various pieces of furniture, luggage, food, in all directions. To the side three men stood, and one of them caught the eye of Alexander.

“Leonidas!” he exclaimed loudly, rushing to embrace the older man.

“Have you really missed me that much?” Leonidas laughed at the young man. “It has not been many nights since I saw you last in Pella. Did Hermes bless your journey?”

“It has been overwhelming, but I am in good health, and I quite enjoyed my journey.”

“And I see you have found Ptolemy and Nearchus as well,” Leonidas motioned to the other two boys.

“Rather I found him,” Ptolemy chuckled. “For someone who walks with such authority, he is surprisingly easy to let slip out of grasp.”

“Oh Ptolemy, you’re only bitter,” Alexander retorted. “That even with much longer legs, and _so_ much more wisdom, you are still unable to catch me.”

“I am glad to hear I have helped you with something then, boy!” Lysimachus commented as he joined the four men.

“Master Lysmachus,” Alexander bowed to the older man.

“Though by the time I am done with the lot of you, I hope you will be the finest young men Macedonia has ever produced.”

As the four of them stood, the sound of horses approaching echoed into the courtyard and three horses and a mule approached the gates.

“Young masters,” Leonidas bowed at the boys and started towards the gates with Lysimachus as his heels.

“Who is that?” Nearchus asked from between Alexander and Ptolemy, as both a stocky older man and a younger one dismounted. Through the crowd Alexander gazed on the young man. He had bright eyes, and stood a bit taller than him. He was obviously athletic, and wore a blue cloak. His hair was not very long, but it hung above his shoulders, and was of a different fashion than that worn by Macedonian boys.  Despite being taller, and his features more refined, Alexander could recognize him the second he dismounted.

Suddenly he felt as if his stomach was full of furies and his face burned red. He felt incredibly self-conscious and began to fiddle with his robes.

“Well, I think Alexander would be more at liberty to say,” Ptolemy began, and as the words left his mouth, the young man locked gazes with them. From the moment he saw Alexander he lost the ability to speak. Recognition dawned on his face. Obviously he had known the other boy would be here, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight he now took in.

Alexander was older, he obviously looked it. His features were the same, and though his eyes were his father’s, the shade was a gentle brown resembling his mother’s. His stature was developed, and his muscles were starting to develop in the right places. He was no longer the childhood friend he remembered.

“I am not ready,” he whispered under his breath to Ptolemy, turning his head.

Catching the movement but not the words, Hephaestion grew self-conscious. Alexander probably didn’t remember him, and if he did, what if he had changed too much to still be fond of him?

“General Amyntor!” Lysimachus shouted as he embraced Hephaestion’s father, and Nearchus looked to Alexander expectantly.

“What?”

“Who is it?” the boy exclaimed, irritated by his friend’s lack of focus. “The boy? Son of Amyntor?”

“Oh…” Ptolemy acted as if he were considering some new and eye-opening piece of information. Alexander swatted at him. “That would be Hephaestion, son of Amyntor.” He chuckled.

“From where does he hail?”

“Athens,” Alexander stated, void of emotion. He remembered little of the night Hephaestion left, but did remember the urgency and regret he had awoken with.

“General Amyntor, Hephaestion,” Lysimachus started, “Allow me to introduce Ptolemy, Son of Lagus of Macedon, and Nearchus, Son of Androtimus.”

“Health to you, General,” Ptolemy stated, and the two boys bowed, as Amyntor and Hephaestion did in return.

“Thank you, Master Lysimachus. I remember you, Ptolemy. Your father and I have continued correspondence over the years, I trust he is well?” Amyntor started.

“Quite well, Sir. Though he does often speak of how your regiment was never better than when it was under your charge.”

“And Nearchus of Crete. I remember your father as well, though do not think I have had the privilege of making your acquaintance.”

Through the pleasantries Alexander dared to snake his eyes up from the floor which he had suddenly become fascinated with. Big mistake. Hephaestion’s large blue eyes bore into his own for only a second before the shifted away. He visibly blushed, just as Alexander had, realizing he was staring.

“It is unlikely, Sir.” Nearchus’s highly pitched voice focused Alexander again. “I was born in Crete while my father was in Macedon. I was only in Pella briefly, as my father was stationed frequently in port cities.”

“You sale like your father then?” Amyntor asked eagerly.

“I do sir, though with nowhere near the tact. I am too small still to gain my bearings properly.”

“Since living in Athens, Hephaestion has had the pleasure of sailing, you must assist eachother while you are here! Isn’t that right, son?”

“I do enjoy sailing greatly. I had an instructor  who taught me much about navigation, I would be pleased to share with you what I know.” Hephaestion smiled at Nearchus and extended his arm. Nearchus grasped it rightly and smiled wide.

“It would be a great pleasure!”

“Alright, alright, boy. I’m still surprised so much energy can be held in such a small frame. I look foreward to watching you sit through one of Master Aristotle’s lessons.” Lysimachs laughed. “Of course, though I know it is not needed, this is of course our young Alexander.” He continued, grasping Alexander by the shoulder.

“Alexander, of course. You have grown so much.” Amyntas bowed, and Alexander returned the gesture. “I hope you have forgiven me for keeping my son so long from Macedon.”

“Hephaestion, you look quite well. I hardly think Alexander could begrudge your father for returning you to us in such good condition,” Ptolemy laughed, tightly hugging his friend. “Isn’t that so, Alexander?”

“Of course, Sir.” Alexander regained his mental footing and immediately switched into his political manner. “You did promise to return him to be before we were our father’s age, so I should be thanking you, for only removing him for such a short time.”  Alexander laughed. “And you do,” Alexander smiled shyly at his friend. “Look excessively well- I mean.”

“The sentiment is returned, my Prince.” Hephaestion bowed.

A moment of silence passed through the group, when one of the guards approached them. “Sir, we are ready to unload the horses,”

“Thank you,” Amyntor nodded to the guard. “I suppose we shall see you boys at dinner tonight?”

“You will, Sir.” Lysimachus replied for the boys. “Be in the dining hall well before Helios leaves his guard. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” They replied in unison.

“Very well. Off you go,”

Bowing one last time, Ptolemy, Nearchus and Alexander turned to leave the courtyard.

“Would you still like for me to show you the academy?” Ptolemy asked the other boys earnestly.

“If it is not an inconvenience, I would still like that,” Nearchus nodded, looking to Alexander for approval.

“Gods, please.” He sighed, rubbing forehead. “I think some exercise is just what I need.”

With that they set out for the wooded pathway below the courtyard. 


	2. Chapter 2

There is a feeling, probably similar to the one which Alexander felt, which is universal. It is the unmistakable feeling of the passing of time. We often assume that time moves in a passive manner. That it is an objective force, which does not take sides or change or falter, no matter how important we think we are. But such a paradigm fails to recognize time for what it truly is. It is a living being, which touches all things, and is always present. Sometimes it stays and sits by the hearth and waits with us. It touches your heart and causes both aging and forgetfulness. Sometimes it comes briefly, and extends a moment by just fragments of a second. It causes the worst anxiety imaginable to feel even worse, like when a child anticipates a harsh punishment, and is left behind the curtain of guilt for only a little bit too long. It causes excitement when the touch of a lover lingers for a second too long.

What alexander felt was the sting of passion too quickly withdrawn. The taste of wine which, though made with the best and freshest grapes grown in a season, had not matured fully, and was consumed greedily too soon. The maker of said wine tries to cap the vase once again, and leaves it in dark, damp places, with hopes that it will not have spoiled with time. But when he opens the container once again, a thought lingers. What if it has spoiled? The mixture has truly thickened, and even without a taste, he can tell it has been altered. Perhaps he should simply leave it be, or get rid of it without testing it.

Unfortunately for his curiosity and unwillingness to waste such a good harvest of grapes be gone with no reward, he will eventually taste the wine, but with hesitation and worry always present.

When Alexander returned from his walk with Ptolemy and Nearchus his attendant had lay out a new chiton for him on his table. He was grateful to see the freshly cleaned fabric, as his morning of riding and afternoon of walking had left him in a precarious condition, bordering unfit to be in the presence of the noblemen he was to dine with.

He considered it almost ironic, considering they each probably felt the same, as they were about to share a meal with the potential future King of Macedon. He almost considered leaving on the robes he was wearing. Letting the dirt stained fabric hang from his shoulders, letting his messy hair stand on end. The endless formalities of royalty was tedious to him at times, and he was looking forward to when classes began so he would be able to care for his own fashion, and not be bothered by appearances. But something made him hesitate.

Picking up the simple article of clothing, he held it in his hands and considered it for a moment. His attendant had chosen the perfect garment, but perhaps it was too much to his own liking. It was simple, a pale and faded shade of blue, similar to when the moon shines on the snow at just the right time of night. When Artemis is the only one to see a fresh blanket lay across the trees and embrace snowy hills in her arms, yearning for the warmth of her daughter, long after Kore has joined her husband for the winter. But the fabric lacked any embellishment. It had no embroidery, and the color made him look terribly ordinary. It washed the color from his eyes, and paled his skin.

Feeling the matted condition of his hair, he suddenly felt quite self-conscious about it as well. In the state it was in, it would not do his face any justice, or give off even slightly the correct impression to his teachers and peers. His mother would be horrified to hear his first meal in his new home would be served to him, when he was in such a condition. He glanced around the room eagerly, suddenly feeling quite worried and anxious. He had not considered a need to be decorated for an occasion such as this.

"Ptolemy!" he rushed from his room, and turned, banging on his friend's closed compartment. "Ptolemy, it is urgent!"

"What is it, Alexander?" the door swung open, and Ptolemy emerged.

"Is that what you're wearing?" Alexander desperately shouted.

"It is what I planned on," His friend replied, looking down at his simple robes. They were pure white, and though they were not his best, they complimented his tanned skin well. After a day in the sun, Alexander hated to admit his friend looked quite stunning, as if he glowed. "Why have you not changed? You cannot be wearing that…" he continued, glancing down anxiously in Alexander's disheveled form.

"I need your help," Alexander pleaded, grabbing his friends arm, and dragging him towards his own compartment.

"Calm down, Alexander." He allowed himself to be pulled, and was released when they crossed the threshold to the younger man's room. "I will help however I can, but I don't understand why it is needed!"

"I cannot decide if this," Alexander held up the pale blue chiton. "Is enough for such an occasion… I feel it does not do me justice. My instructors will think me quite incapable of presenting myself." He stated while crewing his lower lip in contemplation.

Ptolemy stopped himself from laughing, but was quite entertained by the look of deep concentration on his friend's face. "Alexander, I fear you are sounding more and more like a woman each day. I fear one day you will sprout breasts and take up weaving!"

"You jest, but I seek your help sincerely!" Alexander whined. "Ptolemy I do not need mockery, and if it is all you seek to offer, then you may freely leave! You would not know this struggle yourself, I know. With your long legs and matured skin. I still look like a child!"

"Apologies, my friend" Ptolemy approached the chest which held Alexander's chitons, shuffling through the many robes inside. "I did not mean to offend." He withdrew a pale purple chiton with gold embroidery. It was quite formal, but alexander recognized it would look perfect. "You must wear it with no bands or other jewels or it will be too much."

Alexander nodded, taking the garment. "Thank you," he started. "I am sorry I yelled at you,"

"I know your temper, friend." Ptolemy nodded. "But I also do not believe we are done here, and I do not believe I have seen the last of it for the night."

"What do you mean?" Alexander asked, as he watched Ptolemy take a chalice of water from the bin near the door.

"I mean only for what is best, my prince." Ptolemy approached him and bowed.

"Ptolemy... what…" He was interrupted when his friend suddenly poured the cold container of water onto his head, thoroughly soaking his upper body with the offensive liquid. "PTOLEMY!"

With a swift moment, Ptolemy ran from his compartment in hysteric laughter, and bolted the door.

It was of a greater benefit to Alexander than he had initially considered, though administered in a rather rash manner. As he recognized the sound of Ptolemy's door locking before he had recovered enough to even put up a good fight, he resigned himself to the thought that his revenge would have to come at another time. He slicked his hands through his now wet hair and recognized the opportunity, and what his friend had tried to do. It already felt better.

He leaned over the window of his room and slowly emptied a large portion of the remaining water onto his head. The remaining he used to learn the dirt from his arms, chest and neck. Eventually judging he was in suitable enough a condition, he changed into the outfit Ptolemy had suggested.

Seeing the sun begin to set he brought the stool from his table to the window and watched the colors change and dim for a number of moments, before a knock at the door interrupted his ritual. "Come in," he mumbled without taking his eyes off the sight. He had always found an odd tranquility which descended with the sun to the west. In the day men tended to spend their time training, deliberating, and conducting important official affairs. In the night, however, they were usually up to much more sinister business, involving drinking and indulging in the pleasures of the body. Though he had little, if any, experience with the aforementioned, the time between the two presented a rare serenity, when men, women, slaves, and children, all held their breaths in anticipation.

"Alexander, we are expected," Nearchus said from the slightly opened door. "The meal is to be served soon, and Ptolemy says we should not delay any longer."

"Very well," he agreed, moving from the window.

"A red sky tonight," Nearchus said, looking past him at the setting sun. "I do believe my companions will sail safely this night."

"Is that true?" Alexander asked, as they left the room and headed down the hallway, once again.

"It is a saying, but I think it gives me hope that the gods will be merciful." He sighed and shook his head. "After all his years at sea my father tends to disagree to its positivity. He says that the gods pain the sky red with the blood of all the men lost at sea, and that it is a reminder we are always at their mercy."

"Your father seems like a pleasant sailor," Ptolemy joked.

"He is only weathered by many years without his feet on the ground." Nearchus continued. "I think I will feel the same one day. It is exhausting to put your life so willingly in the hands of gods who can so quickly withdraw their favour without warning. Every time your feet leave the earth you surrender yourself to fortune. It truly is terrifying."

"You make me wish to never approach the sea again," Alexander laughed, patting him on the shoulder. "If you continue to look so grim I fear you will make the gods happy they painted it red to begin with."

"Why does your father not join us tonight?" Ptolemy asked.

"He was last on a survey to the east for the king, and he was unsure if he would return in time to accompany me here, so he arranged for me to be taken by some of his men." Nearchus replied plainly. "He does, however, wish to join us at the feast tomorrow night, and was so requested by your father. So I hope he will be here soon."

"I am excited to speak to him. From what you say he is a man of much wisdom," Alexander smiled.

As they entered the courtyard Ptolemy slowed. "Nearchus, would you mind continuing without us? I have to discuss something with Alexander," he said. The boy nodded and withdrew himself towards the large building which held the hall. The way the sun was setting drenched the courtyard in a brilliant pale yet warm glow. The vines and flowers rustled gently in the breeze.

"What was that about?" Alexander looked inquisitively towards Ptolemy.

"I simply wish to ask if you have recovered."

"Recovered from what?"

"Well, you seemed quite flustered before."

"I was worried I was in no state to make an appearance, as you saw, I was correct in that assumption."

"It was quite uncharacteristic of you to become that way so quickly." Ptolemy assured him worriedly. "I have always envied you for your ability to make judgments and deliver sentences with fine execution, for someone so young."

"What do you mean?" Alexander felt himself grow both frustrated and flushed.

"Why did you really want to ensure you looked well tonight, Alexander?" Ptolemy asked in a tone lacking of any mockery or judgement.

"I don't wish to talk about it." Alexander stated. "But since you are so curious, I will make sure that I keep you updated on my condition, and tell you immediately if it changes." He turned and began to walk away from his friend angrily.

"Perhaps you should just try being yourself. I assure you he would like that best of all," Ptolemy called after him, and Alexander stopped.

Alexander halted, realizing he had been caught. His friend knew him better than he had anticipated. "Will he though? I feel… Actually, it doesn't matter how I feel."

"Of course it does, Alexander." Ptolemy approached him again. "That is what friendship is about, finding people who make you a better person, and ensuring they always are aware of how greatly you appreciate their benefit to you."

"You speak as if friendship is ensured." Alexander laughed bitterly. He had in truth been feeling nervous since he first saw Hephaestion. More so than any other of his companions, he was most worried about what the other boy felt about him. They had been friends several years ago, and he still remembered the deeply endearing qualities which he had loved in the other man. "Much has changed since we last knew one another." He sighed and turned from his friend. "Did you not feel it today in his presence?"

Ptolemy shook his head but did not say anything.

"He has changed. We have both changed." Alexander said again. "It was terribly awkward, wasn't it? I mean," he kicked at some stones in the courtyard, and noticed how deeply the sun was now descending. "he probably blames m. For having to leave his life and friends in Athens. I do not wish to be a constant reminder to him of that! I don't wish to be holding him captive..."

"Perhaps you think too much." Ptolemy sighed. "Give the man more credit before you assume he has cast off the friendship you once had. I do not think anyone capable of such a thing. Hephaestion, most definitely would not."

Alexander nodded. "Perhaps you are right," he smiled. "I…" he stuttered. "I am not used to feeling so nervous. I do hope he still enjoys my company."

"There is only one way to find out I suppose," Ptolemy motioned for them to continue walking. "And I cannot speak for you, but I would rather find out without being chided by master Lysimachus for being late for our meal."

Alexander laughed and the two ran towards the hall.

When they arrived they were clearly out of breath and Lysimachus stood at the entranceway. "Moments later and you two would have not been receiving dinner at all." The boys nodded in acknowledgement, and he moved aside to allow them entrance. The hall was grand, but not overly extravagant, and Alexander was used to much larger. Several tables aligned the walls, and the center of the space contained a large hearth. At one table sat his instructors, at another sat Nearchus with Hephaestion, and scattered throughout the room was various other students of the academy who studied under Aristotle or other teachers. It was brightly illuminated, and the smell of food made Alexander realize how long it had been since he had actually eaten anything.

"Alexander! Ptolemy!" Both boys turned as a taller one embraced them both tightly.

"Perdiccas!" Ptolem laughed, as they all nearly lost their balance. "How on earth do you continue to grow so rapidly? I swear I saw you just moons ago in Pella and you were not at this height."

"It is not by choice, my friend." He laughed in reply. "I would not wish it on anyone. I cannot control my limbs, and my mother chides me constantly for breaking almost everything I touch."

"Where were you all day?" Alexander asked, smiling at his friend's boundless energy. He was at least a year younger than Alexander but still rivaled Ptolemy in height, with long blond hair which stuck up from every direction, though it's damp ends showed that it, with a great deal of effort, or at least had been at least attempted to be tamed.

"I arrived early in the day, and before anyone else had, and decided to take a few hours to enjoy to surrounding hills. One of the local men allowed me to borrow a horse, and so I took full advantage of my free time."

"I think that was wise," Alexander nodded. "I do hope we begin our lessons soon. I am quite eager to see master Aristotle in his most comfortable environment. He always seemed to resent being in court. As I can understand, with such a place awaiting your return. I fear Mezia will spoil me for Pella."

"I fear that your food will spoil if you do not proceed immediately to eating it," Lysimachus directed from behind them, and the three boys bowed, moving to the table where Nearchus already sat across from Hephaestion. Ptolemy nudged Alexander in the ribs and alexander pushed him back, shooting him a dangerous glare. Ptolemy cornered him as they approached the table and pushed alexander to be standing behind the bench where Hephaestion was sitting, and cleared his throat.

Hephaestion turned and made eye contact with Alexander immediately, and moved to stand and bow but the younger man signaled for him to remain seated.

Bowing slightly he gestured to the seat beside Hephaestion, "Is this spot spoken for?"

"Of course not," Hephaestion started. "I mean—please sit. If you would like, obviously," he stuttered and blushed. Alexander nodded and took the space. Ptolemy winked at him from across the table and Alexander gave his best menacing glare. As soon as the boys were seated they were served a moderate feast. The academy stores were no doubt being held for the large celebration which was to take place the next evening.

"I trust your journey was well, my prince?" Hephaestion said suddenly, glancing at Alexander.

Alexander stilled for a moment before replying. "It was, I love being in the air, and on horseback. But please, my friend. Do not call me anything so formal. Call me Alexander."

"If you wish," Hephaestion nodded. "I trust your father is well, and your mother and sister too?"

"There are all quite well. My sister has recently been promised to my uncle Alexander in Epirus, so I fear she will not be at Mezia for much longer. And my mother…" He paused. "Well, my mother has not changed at all." Hephaestion nodded. The answer sounded brief and as if the details were too much to be discussed over dinner. "And how is your family, Hephaestion?"

"They are fine. My father is in good health, and my brothers this last summer returned to Macedon to become pages to the guard. Though my mother and sister now remain in Athens."

"I wonder," Alexander said, under his breath, so only Hephaestion could hear, "if you would be willing to talk with me tonight after the meal. I know your father is here so it may not be possible, but I feel like I must apologize to you."

"Apologize for what?" Hephaestion looked confused.

"For this," Alexander said, gesturing to the room before him.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, my prince."

"Alexander."

"What?"

"Please, call me Alexander."

"Right, Alexander." Hephaestion cleared his throat. "If you are under the impression that I am hear against my will you have misinterpreted the situation quite gravely."

Alexander's head shot up. "Really?"

"Well, I suppose some things never change." Laughed Perdiccas, breaking their quietconversation while sitting between Nearchus and Ptolemy. "You two are muttering to one another, thick as Spartan thieves like you never were parted." Ptolemy nearly spewed wine as he laughed heartily at his friend's straight forward statement.

Perdiccas was probably the youngest of the group in years, yet he and Hephaestion were quite close when they were in Pella. Though they always got along well, he had experienced a time when he was quite jealous of the relationship the two had, before he realized that it would get him virtually nowhere, and turned his attentions to being a good friend to both rather than the best to one.

Hephaestion shook his head. "We will talk about this later," he muttered, and Alexander nodded in agreement.

The feast from that point on went remarkable smoothly. Nearchus even recounted a gripping story his father had told him about encountering a huge sea serpent on his travels to the east, and how it had threatened to destroy their ship if they did not surrender all of their precious metals.

"What did he do?" Perdiccas asked, enthralled at the story.

"Well, seeing as they were only out on a mission of survey, my father and his men had nothing to deter the serpent, so they first pleaded with him to let them go." He continued, motioning wildly with his hands. "The serpent thought they were lying, and he became very angry with them for trying to trick them and began to lash about, creating large waves which threatened to tip them all overboard. Seeing that his pleading my father emplored the monster to stop. You are right, great serpent, He told it. We do have some precious metals to satisfy you on our persons, but if you sink us, they will sink to the bottom of the sea, and Lord Poseidon will surely claim them for his the master of the sea's name invoked caused the monster to still. Give us but a minute and we will collect them all, and willingly give them to you. The serpent foolishly but reluctantly released the ship from his grasp and waited to see what the men would do. So they gathered up a large net- you know the ones they use to collect fish off the coast? Those ones with the great spaces and-"

"yes, we know the ones you speak of! Continue with the story!" Alexander insisted.

"Very well, yes. It was one of those nets." Nearchus stuttered. "Anyways, my father and all of his men put their swords and spears into the net and tied it loosely together. They then approached the rim of the boat and called to the serpent. This is all we have, great one. Accept our offering and let us leave this place in peace. Seeing the great quantity of metal, but noticing they were only dulled swords and weapons the serpent reared its mighty jaws in anger to attack the men, but as it did they threw the net together, and it loosened enough for the blades to fall and cut within and about the serpent. As he wrestled in the waves, with great gashes all across his skin, he retreated back to the depths hissing curses at mortal men the whole way down."

"And what did the king say," asked Ptolemy in a skeptical tone. "When they returned without the well-crafted wares he had provided them with?"

"How should I know, Ptolemy?" Nearchus chided. "It is only a story, don't you know? You should not believe every tale you hear." The others laughed, at his ease of brushing off Ptolemy's challenge.

"Well, I think I have had quite enough fantasy for tonight." Perdiccas declared, standing from the table. The hall had slowly emptied over the long period they had been talking. "I will allow sleep to claim me, now."

"I think I will join you," Ptolemy agreed. "With the arrival of many important men in the morning, I suggest everyone gets their rest."

At that the five boys stood and walked from the hall. The sky was magnificently bight and the air had not cooled much from the earlier day. As they entered the courtyard Alexander reached to Haphaestion and touched his shoulder. "Would you still be willing to talk, Hephaestion?"

They both stopped and Hephaestion nodded. "I know a quiet place, close to here, if you would be willing to follow." Alexander nodded and they turned to the exit of the courtyard. The academy existed on a hill, overlooking the countryside, and Hephaestion led Alexander from the entrance way and off the road onto a small wall which skirted the edge of the cliff. He sat and motioned for Alexander to join him. The view was extraordinary. The moon was almost full, light illuminated the hills, and no clouds impaired the view of the stars.

"Do you enjoy life in Athens?" Alexander broke the silence, glancing at his friend.

"It was… different from Macedonia." Hephaestion looked at him briefly, before returning his gaze to the view above. "The people are not as nice, but the city is beautiful."

"What do you enjoy the most? I've never been there" at this Hephaestion laughed.

"I should hope not! If you had come and not visited me, I can't imagine I would have been able to forgive you. But I enjoyed the temples. They were beautiful," he paused for a moment. "the gods are truly present in that city."

"We will go there together one day, and you must promise to show me them."

"It would be my pleasure," Hephaestion nodded, and smiled at how eager his friend was being. "I do think I will miss parts of it," he started but was interrupted by Alexander.

"I am so sorry for that," he interjected. "If I had known you were to be here I would asked my father not to force you to come!"

"Force me? Alexander I asked to be brought here." Hephaestion stated. "When your father extended invitation I assumed it had been you who extended it."

"I would not have had the courage."

"Are you that afraid of me?"

Alexander shook his head. "I simply was afraid of you not wanting to see me anymore."

"Don't be foolish," Hephaestion reached over and tentatively placed his hand over Alexander's. "We were friends once, not long ago." He started, peering with a questioning look at Alexander. "I have not changed to much as to no longer want to be your friend."

"I would…" Alexander struggled, and looked down at his friend's hand which the then grasped. "I would be honored if you would consider resuming where we left off?"

"It would make me very happy." Hephaestion replied, smiling. They sat in silence for a number of moments, before he continued. "Has much changed in Pella? Since I left?"

Alexander thought for a moment, trying to recall. "Nothing of much worth. My father continues his plans for conquest, as usual. He has recently sponsored a number of playwrites to compose works for his court. They tell the most amazing stories, Phae. You would enjoy them greatly."

Hephaestion paused for a moment, grinning at his friends use of his nickname, though it was likely unintentional, it gave him hope. "The plays were one of my favorite parts of festivals in Athens. They often reminded me of your, and the things Leonidas used to teach you."

"I do enjoy them greatly, but I must admit I've gained more appreciation for practicing sword work and other physical training. It allows me to stay outside more often."

"Do you like to wrestle? With a frame as small as yours, I imagine I could beat you wuite easily." Hephaestion teased.

"A frame such is mine? We are the same height!"

"Oh, Alexander. Have you been lied to so often? I could always beat you when we were younger, do you have so much faith in your more recent opponents to believe you have improved greatly? And I clearly stand taller than you," Haphaestion stretched his back, making him look taller.

"You challenge me, Hephaestion." Alexander nocked his shoulder lightly. "And you know I cannot deny a challenge."

The two boys laughed, but not soon after a clod breeze blew through and Hephaestion shivered.

"Are you cold?" Alexander looked at him anxiously. "It is late. We should return," he stood and offered a hand to his friend.

"You're right. Tomorrow will be a tiring day for everyone, yourself especially, I imagine."

They balanced on the wall, back up the road, and into the hallway which held the student rooms. "Sleep well, Alexander."

"You as well, Hephaestion," he nodded back, and ducked into his room, gently closing his door and leaning against it.

Thinking to the excitement and havoc the next day was to bring he sighed. It was hard to know if the hardest part had just ended, or was about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for all of the sea monster/ bad navigation jokes on behalf of Nearchus. He was a tricky guy, and I figure Alexander must have exceedingly trusted him, to have accepted his explanation of ‘sea monsters’ having been the reason he could not meet the army on their march through the Gedrosian. So I like to poke fun at him.
> 
> Thanks for those of you who reviewed. I wasn't planning on having this done for at least a week, but you guys showed up and here we are!
> 
> Happy New Years, Folks!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, If you're reading this I suppose you've stumbled on my mess. A little background information to start:
> 
> I'll be updating this story about once every two weeks. We're looking at upward of thirty chapters if everything goes as planed. I'm without a Beta until I can establish the story, for the most part. The story will be alternating perspectives, often without prompt. It will make sense! I swear! The tag "Underage" is used for the sake of the presence of sexual activity between consensual individuals under the age of 18. If you are concerned about any content you read, or more information on the warning, let me know. 
> 
> Hit me up with a comment if you have any comments or questions!


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